


You’re Like Me

by pumpkinscript



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BORED!, F/M, Faing in love with the villain, Hybristophilia, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, Kidnapping, Kissing, One-Shot, Psychopath, Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:24:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinscript/pseuds/pumpkinscript
Summary: "What's wrong, (y/n)? Scared of the bad guy...?"She kept quiet."...or is it the bad guy you secretly have feelings for...?"





	You’re Like Me

Whoosh! 

The paper bag was pulled off of (y/n)'s face quickly by someone standing behind her. Her breathing was heavy; she was terrified. She was bound to a chair with rope and had no idea where she was. She looked around at her surroundings. The building was very big, but she saw nothing but concrete. Concrete floor, concrete walls, concrete ceiling. It looked as though she was in an abandoned warehouse. 

"Hello," a voice behind her cooed. 

"Where the fuck am I?" she said, her voice hoarse, trying to hide her fear. She was, in fact, terrified; but the adrenaline pumping through her veins gave her an edge and she was angry and confident enough to lash out. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are?" She tried vainly craning her neck to look behind her, but her neck was sore and she ended up crying out in pain. 

She heard footsteps and the man who was standing behind her appeared as he walked around the chair. He was somewhat tall, had dark hair, and a handsome demeanor about him. His dark brown eyes held a certain mysteriousness to them; it was playful — dangerous. The smirk on his face was intriguing to (y/n), but she couldn't play along with whatever game he had started. She wouldn't. 

"Hi," the man said in a feeble, American-accented voice. He then dropped the facade and said in his regular, Dublin accent, "I'm James Moriarty."

"You're that psychopath, aren't you?" The news never mentioned the fact that he was psychotic. However, she herself was a psychopath and recognized the behaviour. "I've seen you on the news! You and that detective Sherlock Holmes who can never seem to catch you."

"Yes, yes," Moriarty mused. "Good ol' Sherly can never seem to catch me." He cocked his legs, leaned forward a bit and said in a bit of a whisper, "that's because I'm too good. Much smarter than him."

"Well that doesn't make him a better man than you and he will find you eventually," (y/n) said, her voice wavering and her initial 'toughness' wearing off. 

"He may think he's a better man than me," Moriarty said, standing up straight again, "but really, he's just as much of a piece of shit as anyone else. Special, maybe. But good? No."

"That doesn't justify what you've done."

"Oh, no, no, certainly not." He took a few steps towards (y/n) and knelt down, not more than two feet from her. "But every story does need a good ol' fashioned villain."

She didn't say anything in reply; she did agree with him. She was always one to fall in love with the villains on any TV shows she watched. They were always darker then the heroes; more tainted and powerful. She always flaunted her good morals around to people who would listen, however, so no one knew she had a fetish for the bad guys. 

Moriarty chuckled lightly, reading her emotions. He himself, was a psychopath. He didn't empathize with people. That didn't mean he was blind what people were feeling. That's how he was able to manipulate them so easily. 

"What's wrong, (y/n)? Scared of the bad guy...?"

She kept quiet. 

"...or is it the bad guy you secretly have feelings for...?"

She still didn't answer, but her cheeks impulsively burned red. 

Moriarty raised his eyebrows in a shocked manner. "Oh— so it is the villains you fancy." He raised himself from his kneeling position and stood up. 

"But you look like such a good girl." He made a sad face, mocking the situation. 

"I'm not," she growled. 

"Oh, ho, ho," James laughed, a look of delight on his face, "so you are into the villains! You aren't even bothering to hide it anymore." He grinned, pleased with himself. "You know what, (y/n)? You're like me. I know you are."

"Cut the bullshit, Moriarty, I—"

"No, please don't disagree. You know it's true, too. I realized you were a psychopath the moment light hit your eyes. They rejected the light. It's like they wanted to stay where they were, embracing the darkness they had while covered. You like the darkness better."

She didn't respond. 

"Well, don't be afraid to admit it, (y/n)," he drawled. "Being a psychopath is such an advantage."

"So what if it was?"

Moriarty smiled to himself and said, "I like you. You're fiery. Angry. It's very attractive. Heat looks good dancing across your features."

Her face turned red again. Was he... flirting with her? He was attractive as hell, and it took everything in her power not to flirt back— even though she was tied to a chair. He had fucking kidnapped her, after all. 

"Your face is red again," he said in a soft voice. He sauntered towards her slowly, leaning forwards and putting both his hands on the hands of the chair so that his face was inches away from (y/n)'s. 

"You know what?" he whispered. "I'm thinking and — tell me if I'm wrong — but I'm thinking that you're enjoying this a little bit more than you should." He smirked. 

She didn't say anything, but looked back at the psychopath who was now holding her hostage. 

"I think you want this to go somewhere," he drawled. "Is that true?"

He was so seductive. She wanted this so bad. She had been denied any physical satisfaction for so many much and it was practically killing her. She instinctively bit her lip, drawing blood and looked up at him, giving him a silent, but sure, answer to his question. 

Moriarty grinned breathily and then leaned in and kissed her softly. His hand caressed her cheek and she kissed him back. His other hand slipped down and rested on her thigh. Though he was tender about it, she could tell he wanted her. As she kissed him, she could feel his hand suddenly start to untie the ropes strapping her to the chair. As soon as the ropes fell to the floor, he stood up straight. 

"On your knees."

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my works on my Wattpad page @pumpkinscript


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